Satan's Affair by Carlton, D. (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📗

outside of the premises. Never even seen what the rest of the world looks like. One day I will convince Mommy to leave this place with me, but the first and last time I brought it up, she smacked me in the mouth and told me to never say those words again.

I listened, but only because the terror in her eyes scared me into silence.

But I’m even more scared that if I wait any longer, Mommy won’t be around long enough to get away from Daddy.

“Why?” I ask on a whisper.

“Sibby, honey, don’t get sensitive about it. Leonard wanted me to assist with some things in one of the houses, so I did. You were fine here, weren’t you?”

She sits down on a twin bed, directly across from mine. There are over sixty people that attend our Church, so we’re all forced to share rooms. I got lucky enough to share a room with Mommy. Though, I know Daddy holds that over my head. It’s something he constantly threatens to take away, but never seems to follow through with.

Maybe it’s because he knows Mommy is the only one in this Church that has any type of control over me. And Daddy has all the control over her. Like a house of cards, if I fail—so will she.

And I fail a lot.

I think I’m killing my mother.

“I guess so,” I whisper. “Daddy didn’t hurt you?”

She sighs, weary and tired. “Don’t ask questions like that, Sibby. Leonard isn’t a bad man, he just is doing the best he can for us. He has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders.”

She lies. She doesn’t even believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

Before I can stop it, I curl my lip in revulsion. The only thing he’s doing the best he can with is getting people to ride his cock and making my life miserable.

Clearly, he’s making her life miserable, too.

Mommy brushes her hair back, thoughtlessly, just to get it out of her eyes. But the small motion turned my life upside down.

Around her neck are deep handprint bruises. She’s wearing a turtleneck sweater, which isn’t out of the normal for her, especially during winters in Ohio. But her mangy sweater is sagging and exposing the lies Mommy told me.

He did hurt her.

Those bruises are not just blue, they’re nearly black. How long and hard do you have to squeeze a woman’s throat to turn it that shade?

My eyes round and a gasp slips from my lips. Her brown eyes snap to mine and they widen ever so slightly. Quickly, she brushes her hair forward again to cover the bruise. But she knew there was no covering up what I had already seen.

Her face falls, and her eyes shift some more.

Mountains of emotions rise to the surface—so many, I fear I’ll never be able to climb out of them. Rage. So much rage. Pure, utter heartbreak. Guilt, revenge, sadness. Every emotion a human has ever been plagued by is thrashing in my chest and bleeding into my heart.

I lost some of the red out of my heart in that moment, replaced by a deep, bottomless black. I feel so, so black.

“Why did you lie?” I plead, my lip trembling. A sob climbs up my throat, and there’s no stopping the tears. I’ve never felt like tears were a weakness in front of Mommy. Not when that’s all she’s ever given me, too.

It’s an unspoken understanding. That it’s okay to cry in front of one another. But never anyone else.

“Baby…” she trails off, at a loss for words. “It’s not your fault, Sibel. You know it’s not.”

“Then why did he do it?” I snap, enraged by her abuse. By my abuse. By this whole fucking community’s abuse. We’re all being subjected to it in one form or another, all by the same goddamn man—no. The devil. Fucking Satan himself.

She looks down at her lap, tremors wracking through her nimble fingers. Those same fingers that wiped so many tears away, brushed the hair off my face, helped me up after I had fallen. She was only a child herself when she had me—nowhere close to the maturity she should’ve been when mothering a child.

She’s not perfect, but she’s the best mother I could’ve asked for, given the fragility of her sanity. Her mind is breaking into pieces before my eyes. It has been for eighteen long years, and she’s so close to giving up. I can feel it in my bones, and the knowledge sends a fresh dose of panic into my bloodstream. It constricts my lungs like a python, slowly but surely sending me to an early grave.

“Why does he do anything around here?” she whispers under her breath. The words weren’t meant for me to hear, but I heard them anyway.

“Let’s leave,” I say quietly, pleadingly. “Please Mommy. You know he’s evil. You know it. We can run away together and start new lives far away from him. Somewhere he’ll never find us.”

A tear tracks down her cheek. Quickly, she wipes it away like it was never there in the first place.

“I can’t,” she says, her voice cracking. A sob bursts from her mouth. She slaps a hand over her mouth immediately, quieting the sound.

But you can’t silence heartbreak. It’s loud and painful. Even after you grieve and heal, it lingers in the background, sliding back into your life just when you think you’ve overcome it.

Mommy is well-versed in heartbreak; she’s been feeling it since the moment she lost her life. Now she’s just a shell of a woman, and her soul is ready to find something better.

More tears track down my cheeks. Desperation rises to the surface. Because I don’t want Mommy to leave me. I want us to leave here.

I want her to find that something better with me. Together.

Getting up, I rush over to her and sit next to her. The second I